ed expression, while
it was with difficulty she restrained the tears. Frau von Eschenhagen
felt she had gone too far in her candid statement.

"I do not want to annoy you, my child," she said, unbending a little. "I
only wanted to make it clear to you that--"

"Not want to annoy me when you say such things to me?" interrupted the
girl with flashing eyes. "You treat me like an outcast, not fit any
longer for association with decent people, and why? Because I earn my
bread with the talent which God has given me, and give pleasure to
mankind at the same time. You traduce my old grandfather who made great
sacrifices to have me well educated, and who saw me go out into the
world with a heavy heart. The bitter tears stood in his eyes as he
clasped me in his arms, and said, as he bade me good-bye: 'Be honest and
true, my Marietta. One can be that always, no matter what their road in
life. When I close my eyes on this world I shall have nothing to leave
you. You will have to fight your own battle. Well, I have remained
honest and true, and shall remain so, even though everything is not as
easy for me as for Toni, the daughter of a rich father, who only leaves
her parent's home to go into her husband's. But I don't envy her the
happiness of calling you mother."

"Fraeulein Volkmar, you forget yourself," said the insulted mother
drawing herself to her full height. But Marietta wasn't going to be
silenced now, she was too excited.

"O, no, it is not I who forget myself. It was you who insulted me
without cause, and the head forester and Antonie must be well under your
influence to turn away from me. But no matter. I do not desire the
friendship of any girl who will allow herself to be bullied and
brow-beaten by a mother-in-law. I am done, once for all. Tell Toni I say
that, Frau von Eschenhagen."

She turned away with a passionate motion and left the room. In the front
one, however, she could retain her composure no longer, and the hot
tears, kept back so bravely until now, forced themselves from her eyes.
With a passionate sob the young girl leaned her head against the wall
and wept bitterly. She heard her name called in a low, trembling tone,
and turning, she saw Willibald von Eschenhagen, in his hand the very
paper which he had so hastily concealed in his pocket. It was crumpled
now, but within, as he unfolded the paper, lay a delicate spray of
leaves with two fragrant half-blown roses.

"Fraeulein Volkmar," he stammered